


You're a Criminal as Long as You're Mine

by lionessvalenti



Category: White Collar
Genre: Authority Figures, Community: kink_bingo, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-07
Updated: 2011-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-16 04:06:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Yes, this was how he should have Neal: naked and bound. Arrested. His</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're a Criminal as Long as You're Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by Elrhiarhodan.

Peter pressed Neal's face against the unforgiving wood of the dining table. He grabbed Neal's hand and locked the cold, metal handcuff around the wrist, then cuffed the other behind his back. With Neal's hands bound, Peter allowed himself to run his own hand down Neal's bare side.

"Aren't you going to read me my rights?" Neal asked, tensing under the touch, though it was more like he was merely ticklish as opposed to feeling uncomfortable.

"You don't have any rights," Peter replied. His hand slid down to Neal's ass, squeezing the soft flesh in his hand. Yes, this was how he should have Neal: naked and bound. Arrested. _His_.

Peter slipped his hand down further until his fingers were teasing Neal's balls.

Neal jumped, but didn't protest. He could have, pressed down onto the table in his own home, his body exposed to Peter and the windows, where anyone (with binoculars and intent to look in) could see. But Peter knew there was a part of Neal that liked being owned and touched without warning. There was a part of Neal that wanted to be handcuffed, that reveled in the fantasy of being caught.

"Is this how you treat all your suspects?" Neal asked, sounding a little breathless.

"Only the naked ones," Peter said. He brought his hand back up to Neal's ass, pressing his fingers into the crack, rubbing them against Neal's hole.

Neal groaned and pushed back. "So, you're the bad cop, huh, Peter?"

Peter pulled his hand back and slapped Neal's ass. "Show some respect."

"Agent Burke," Neal corrected himself, emphasizing the hard _kuh_ sound at the end of Peter's name. "Agent Burke," he repeated, this time quieter, as though he were savoring the sound of it.

With a grin, Peter hoisted Neal into a standing position and was pleased to see that Neal was already hard. He hauled Neal across the room and pushed his back against the decorative ladder on the far wall.

"It's cold," Neal hissed as his bare skin touched the metal.

"You can take it," Peter replied. He ran his fingers down Neal's torso, over his muscular stomach, and down into his dark, trimmed pubic hair before taking hold of Neal's cock.

Neal bucked and Peter wished he had been able to actually cuff Neal to the ladder itself. But he had inspected the bolts holding the ladder in place and it was decorative rather than functional. Neal was strong enough that he could potentially bring it down with a sharp enough jerk if he were attached to it.

Since he couldn't tie Neal down, Peter held him in place with one hand. That was sort of nice, too, having his hands all over Neal, and not just on his dick.

He leaned in and pressed his mouth to Neal's. Neal whimpered and leaned into the kiss, his shoulders straining against the cuffs. It was Neal's nature to hold anyone he was kissing around the face, like he could keep them there. Feeling Neal push against Peter's hand, trying to get closer, to touch more of Peter than just his mouth, was adorable. Peter almost laughed.

Instead, he began stroking Neal's cock around the base, teasing him until Neal whined and thrust up into Peter's hand.

Peter leaned back an inch. "You want more?"

"If you're going to torture me, you should at least be interrogating me in the process," Neal replied. "Or is _this_ what you do with your naked suspects?"

"All of them," Peter said, leaning down to kiss Neal's neck.

Neal hissed. "That's something to think about," he whispered.

Peter laughed and brought his hand further up Neal's cock, pressing in at the head with his fingertips. "You like just being another naked suspect?"

"I like you corrupted. Your dark side is sexy."

Peter shoved his mouth to Neal's again, this time to shut him up, his teeth biting into Neal's lips. Peter didn't want to think about having a dark side. It was just a game, he reminded himself as he began pumping Neal's cock in his hand.

Neal threw his head back, banging it against the metal rail. He pushed himself up on his toes, trying to leverage himself to getting more of Peter's hand on him. He writhed against the ladder, mumbling Peter's name, or at least that's what it sounded like, and Peter liked it. He liked the sound of his name on Neal's lips.

The cuffs clanked loudly against the ladder as Neal struggled against them. Peter was certain that if Neal _really_ wanted out of them, he could do it. Though maybe he was too focused on the handjob he was receiving.

Neal fell forward as much as he could. He pressed his face into the crook of Peter's shoulder and moaned. Peter could feel it through his shirt and against his skin. The hum spread throughout his skin like water on paper until it vibrated through his whole body, thrumming in his muscles and echoing every heartbeat.

Peter concentrated on the head of Neal's cock, knowing exactly where to apply the right amount of pressure. When to rub his thumb over the slit, slick with pre-come.

Neal humped helplessly into Peter's hand, his whines and groans growing louder with each passing second. When he came, he bit down on Peter's shoulder to keep from screaming, but the muffled noises he did make were gorgeous.

All the games aside, Peter fucking loved Neal. He loved giving and taking this. He loved being the one to work those noises and the pleasure from Neal. He even loved the come-stain on the leg of his trousers that Elizabeth would tease him about for days.

Neal slumped against Peter's body, panting and lazily pressing kisses to Peter's shoulder.

"Not done yet," Peter said, manhandling Neal up, and turning him around so his front was shoved against the ladder. Neal made a small sound of protest, but it wasn't "no". It wasn't the safe word. Peter chalked it up to tiredness. That was all right, he thought as he pulled the small bottle of lube from his pocket. He uncapped the bottle, and began working into Neal with slicked fingers.

Neal pushed back and he whimpered again when Peter pulled out his fingers.

Peter held Neal up with one hand and unzipped his pants with the other. He pulled out his cock ( _oh, god, he was ready, just the touch of his own hand was nearly enough make him come right then_ ) and promptly pushed himself into Neal.

It was beautiful, the cool metal handcuffs and the warmth of Neal's hands, pressed against Peter's stomach. The way Neal's hands instinctively struggled against the cuffs. How Peter was pushed balls deep into Neal's hot hole; how Neal clenched and groaned every time Peter thrust into him.

"Agent Burke," Neal whispered.

Peter leaned forward and bit Neal's shoulder. The noise Neal made, the half-cry, half-gasp, was all it took to send Peter tumbling over the edge, and for a moment, time stopped.

Still feeling the aftershock of his orgasm, Peter kept thrusting his slowly softening cock into Neal. He wanted to feel Neal for as long as he could. He wanted Neal to feel him.

He pulled out, finally, his dick wet with come and lube. He didn't bother tucking it back in as he shifted his weight onto his heels. He stroked a hand through Neal's sweaty hair.

"Did you like that, baby?"

Neal turned his head and grinned lazily at Peter. "Top notch, Agent Burke."

Peter chuckled. "Enough of that." He led Neal to the bed and helped him into a sitting position.

"Are you going to uncuff me?" Neal asked, staring up at Peter with innocent eyes. He moved his hands so the chain clanked against the cuffs.

"You can't do it yourself?" Peter raised his eyebrows.

Neal laughed. "I could, but it's not like I keep lockpicks in my ass. It'd be a lot easier if you'd do it for me."

Peter retrieved the key and leaned over to unlock the cuffs. He pressed a hand on Neal's shoulder. "Lay back." He waited until Neal was stretched out on the bed, so casually exposed, before he began undressing himself. The game was over, and they were equals again.

"Enjoying the show?" he asked, tossing his shirt aside. He kicked off his shoes and glanced back at Neal, who was scanning every inch of newly revealed skin.

"I am, thank you," Neal replied. He slipped his hands behind his head and grinned up at Peter. It was that infuriating, adorable, shit-eating grin.

Stripped out of his clothes, Peter crawled into the bed. He roamed his hands down Neal's chest and over his hip. He smoothed a hand over the dark hair on Neal's left leg until he reached the ankle. The bare ankle. No black plastic monitor. Nothing holding him there.

"Peter," Neal said, running his fingers through Peter's hair, "I'm not going anywhere."

It wasn't a secret, the domination games. The unhidden meaning behind the handcuffs and the roleplayed arrests. Even if he had been trying to hide why he always wanted to play that way, Neal would have known.

Neal smiled. It wasn't that grin anymore, it was softer, fonder. "You caught me. I'm yours."

Peter stared at him, slack-jawed, and finally, he relaxed. He let himself lay down, resting his head on Neal's chest. Slowly, he closed his eyes.

"That's right," Neal murmured, stroking Peter's hair. "You got me."

Peter sighed, comforted by the feeling of Neal's fingers against his scalp. He had Neal for another night. And maybe forever.


End file.
